Apollo
by Cip
Summary: It was one small step for man, but one giant leap for a certain Thunderbird pilot.


**It was one small step for man, but one giant leap for a certain Thunderbird pilot.**

**First and foremost I want to apologise to everyone for disappearing off the grid these past months. Degrees are hard work, I can tell you :D This is a little fic to get me back into writing, and within the next week or so I will attempt to update ****ALL ****of my unfinished stories. I've said it before and I'll say it again; I don't abandon stories, so they will be updated and – hopefully soon – finished.**

**Dedicated to Squid (who would kill me if I didn't), Manu (who betaed this and whom I love very VERY much!), Little Miss Bump (whom I have not spoken to enough recently and whom I have missed terribly). Also dedicated to Edward White, Roger Chaffee and "Gus" Grissom. If you don't know who these men are then please, read on.**

**I own nothing except my desire for reviews. Constructive criticism is very much appreciated (especially seeing as how I've made a certain favourite Tracy boy of mine appear a little more vulnerable than usual) and flames will be used to ignite the liquid 0****2**** to launch Thunderbird Three.**

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It's never a good night when the clock is reading five AM and you're still in the study working. Jeff tapped his watch a few times in the vain hope that it was wrong then rubbed his eyes with a groan. Surely he hadn't been up _all_ night had he?

Gazing back at the monitor he re-read the single page currently showing on the screen, the neat lines of Calibri script blurring faintly as he strained his tired eyes. It was still enough to make him smile proudly though. Finally, after nearly seven years of preparation and training – not to mention even longer for the engineering feats accomplished – the Thunderbirds and International Rescue were fully functional. Time, money, effort and good ol' blood, sweat 'n' tears had polished their little family into a dynamic team ready and willing to take on anything the world had to offer.

Jeff sat back in his chair with a deep groan, easing out muscles that had locked in place after hours spent hunched up over the keyboard. His gaze drifted over the wall opposite where the pale sunlight that was sneaking past the blinds shone off various pieces of glass, gold and silverware. The Tracy Trophy Cabinet. Fully deserving in how it hogged the entire wall, the achievements of the family stared down at the study in all their finery. Each family member had their own spot and each was dominated by certain aspects of the owner's personality. Scott's was filled with AirForce medals, almost completely blocking out his degree and PhD certificates from Yale and Oxford. John's bore the NASA insignia all over, although his Harvard scrolls were in pride of place just as Virgil's Denver paraphernalia next to him, and Gordon had cluttered all his swimming trophies into a tight bundle to devote an entire shelf to his beloved Olympic gold medal. Alan's made Jeff's smile lose the tiredness that was still tugging around the edges and widen. The newest addition to the cabinet had forced all of Alan's university things and racing trophies to the back of his space. Pride of place was now given over to a small, filthy scrap of material less than the size of your average coaster.

_Your first mission badge is always the best._ Jeff mused as he moved his tired gaze over the NASA logo and the name 'Alan Shepard Tracy' embroidered along the edge. Just as the first American to have travelled into space, Jeff's own boy now carried the same name up there among the stars.

And that was just the start of it. Alan, at the tender age of twenty, had already completed a full month solo in Thunderbird five and could fly Three better than any of them, including Jeff himself. The kid had been born for speed.

To be fair, all of the boys had excelled with their new crafts – and with each other's. True, it had taken Scott a little time to get used to Two, and learn to fly her at a speed that didn't seriously over-heat her engines, but a severe talking to and multiple threats from Virgil had soon slowed him down. A little.

Most of them had expected Gordon to have an issue with Three and Five but the aquanaut had surprised them – and himself – by enjoying himself once John had allowed him to turn the gravity off. His stints in the space station usually involved all of his video-calls being taken upside down in mid-air.

John, of course had had no problems with anything and, in his usual quiet and unassuming manner, had simply test flown each craft in turn. Completely by the book and spot on perfect. It was slightly creepy really.

And that only left Virgil.

The second eldest Tracy had excelled with his own ship to the point of brilliance and had given Scott a run for his money on who could pilot One better. Even in Four he had handled the little craft with ease and confidence despite the cramped conditions. But he had yet to try outer space.

The building of the machines had also given rise to five separate simulators for the boys to learn and practise how to use the real deal and Virgil was entirely comfortable with both the programs for Three and Five. He'd then insisted on waiting a little longer before his turn to brave space.

His first excuse had been that, after John, Scott was the next best qualified – at the time – for life beyond the atmosphere due to Air Force training. The next excuse had been that Gordon was obviously going to have issues being cooped up in the space-station so should go next, to get used to it. And then Alan had returned from NASA and had promptly claimed Three for his own. Since then Virgil hadn't had a chance to try out space-walking for himself, what with their active status in the world.

Still that was all going to change tonight!

Jeff groaned again, and much more emphatically as he realised that he was going to be taking a novice up into space after pulling an all-nighter. They had decided on an evening take-off, purely for the aesthetics and that meant that there were only – he glanced at his watch again – urgh! Fourteen hours to go. That would require some serious caffeine intake. Thank God Alan was coming along too otherwise he may have had to postpone the whole thing.

Pressing the heels of his palms into his eyelids the elder Tracy held them there for a moment – until the build up of blinking lights told him that he was applying too much pressure. Okay, definitely coffee time.

Pushing the chair away from the desk, Jeff forced himself to his feet. Multiple stiff muscle groups complained at the sudden movement and much to his dismay there was an audible _click_ in his right knee. _Man, I'm getting old!_ He jerked his head from side to side a few times to work out the knot at the base of his neck before making for the study door, kitchen bound.

The Tracy complex appeared deserted – which considering the time was probably not unexpected. Jeff made his way through the quiet halls, not needing to turn on the lights now that the sun was fully visible above the horizon and sending its pale rays through the full length windows. The gentle sounds of the tropics filtered through the building, making him smile. Sometimes paradise was just too small a word.

It wasn't until he was nearly at the kitchen door that his well honed Father Senses tingled and alerted him to a sound that _wasn't_ part of a normal tropical dawn chorus. Following his ears, the Tracy patriarch made his way a few paces further down the corridor to stop outside the video room. Much to his surprise it sounded like the television was on.

None of the boys were usually the type to get up so early just to watch TV, they were all far more likely to do something physical like swimming or hitting the gym. It was possible that one of them had fallen asleep that night watching something, or maybe that it was Brains wanting to catch a programme aired in a different time-zone, but somehow Jeff didn't think so. For one, Brains had a TV in his own room. All of the boys did, and any late night viewing was usually done away from Grandma's disapproving glares and lectures on the meaning of the term 'bedtime'. Pushing the door open Jeff peered in.

The blinds had been drawn in defiance of the sun and the room's sole light source came from the huge plasma TV screen that took up a good portion of the far wall. Curled up on the sofa directly in front of the display was a solitary figure, hugging his knees to his chest and totally engrossed in what was playing. Jeff smiled slightly when he looked at the screen before clearing his throat softly. Despite his intentions of gently announcing his presence, he still succeeded in making the watcher jump violently.

"Dad!" Virgil looked like a guilty child as he stared at his father in the doorway. "What are you doing here?"

Jeff raised an eyebrow, entering the darkened room and letting the door swing closed behind him. "Shouldn't I be the one asking that?"

His second eldest son ran a hand through his tousled hair as he looked around, seemingly reorientating himself with the surroundings. Then he grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess so, sorry."

Jeff made his way over to the sofa, and Virgil shuffled aside to let his father sit down. The older Tracy cast a glance at the TV screen again. "_Apollo 13_? That's not really the best thing to be watching before your first space flight now, is it?"

Virgil shrugged listlessly, his eyes returning to the screen. "I just wanted to inspire myself. Get myself excited about it all." He said quietly. "I started with the original Starwars trilogy; that's slightly more of an advocate for going into outer space."

"Why did you need to inspire yourself? Aren't you- Wait, what?" Jeff stared at his son in shock. "_Started_ with Starwars? How long have you been watching films?"

The young brunette looked up at the ceiling as his lips moved in silent calculation. "Lunch time?"

"Virgil, do you know what time it is?"

He shrugged with a shake of his head. "One, Two o'clock?"

"Try five thirty."

"_What?_" To give him credit, Virgil did look genuinely horrified. He stared at the pile of DVDs stacked on the armrest before guiltily raising his gaze. "I didn't realise it was so late. Well, early."

"Apparently not." Jeff cast his eye over the assortment of films and frowned. "_Deep Impact, Armageddon, Supernova..._ Virge, these are hardly going to put you in the right frame of mind." He glanced back at the TV screen and his frown deepened at the wince Virgil tried to hide when an explosion suddenly lit the display. "Why are you watching them?"

The young pilot looked hunted as he stared transfixed at the movie. "I got carried away I guess. I wanted to make myself feel better about it."

"Feel better about what?"

Virgil didn't reply. He couldn't reply.

Jeff didn't push – he'd long learnt that that wasn't the way to deal with Virgil – and merely sat silently next to his son, his mind trying to work through what the problem could possibly be. The brunette was bound to be nervous; it wasn't like this was just another test flight in a plane or something, but there seemed to be a deeper underlying problem here. Virgil's usually calm face had a tenseness to it that was normally only apparent when he was under serious stress, and the premature lines on his forehead had deepened as he frowned to himself. In a neat array around the sofa was a collection of empty crisp wrappers – Virgil didn't have much of an appetite for junk food normally – and multiple RedBull cans that served as his substitute for coffee. Not really an encouraging sign. Even the young man's body posture was off; he was generally a sprawler, taking up as much room as possible, whereas in the current situation he had his knees tucked up to his chest, chin resting on them in what was very obviously a defensive position.

"Are you going to stare at me all night?" The young man finally spoke up, casting a quick glance at his father.

"It's the morning actually. And yes, at least until you start talking."

"And if I don't want to?"

"Not an option. If something's wrong I need to know before we take off this evening, I don't want you distracted when we're up there."

Virgil scowled, running a hand through his hair again and causing it to stick up at the back like a hedgehog's spines. "Such a comforting thought."

Jeff frowned. "Virgil, if you aren't happy with doing this tonight then we can wait a day or two-"

"And what difference will one or two days make?"

Both men looked startled at the harsh tone of voice. Jeff couldn't quite believe that his son had actually just yelled at him and Virgil appeared mortified at his own loss of control.

"I'm sorry Dad, I didn't mean to-"

The elder Tracy held up a hand, silencing his son. "Okay, if you didn't have me worried already now I _know_ there's something wrong. What's going on Virgil?"

A moment passed as Virgil hugged his knees, looking contemplative, then he reached out and picked up the TV remote. "You'll think I'm being stupid." He sighed. "_I_ think I'm being stupid." His father didn't reply and the young man rolled his eyes at the expectant silence. "Fine. Look."

Their DVD machine had the capability of holding multiple disks at once which allowed the user to flick between them rather than getting up to manually change DVDs. Virgil paused the current film and switched to the main console menu, highlighting and picking a documentary that appeared to have been recorded off the TV.

Jeff watched silently as his son put the sound back on the machine and the clip began to play.

'_January 27, 1967.'_ The voice over began, as a close up of Cape Canaveral filled the screen. _A date remembered throughout NASA's history as one of its earliest ventures into Space as well as one of its biggest tragedies: The First Apollo mission._

The Tracy patriarch felt the uneasy sensation of dreaded familiarity as a photo of the three unfortunate crew members was shown.

'_-Their last moments were recorded as they frantically tried to release themselves from the cabin, the transmission ending with a sudden scream of pain-'_

There wasn't a NASA trained astronaut alive who didn't know what had occurred. Who could believe that a simple launch simulation could go so terribly and horrifyingly wrong? The thing hadn't even had fuel in it. Yet the worst had happened. Jeff remembered hearing a copy of the radio transmission when he'd been training in NASA himself. First the calm and steady notifications of a fire in the cockpit, then the frantic sounds of three men fighting to escape from a rapidly growing inferno. That single scream had haunted him for weeks. Two of the crew had been found in their melted space-suits attached to the floor while the third was still strapped into his seat. The eldest Tracy shut his eyes with a pained sigh; the faults in the design of the module and space suits should have been spotted long before they'd had a chance to be used. Yet it had cost three brave men their lives.

Edward White, Roger Chaffee and the command pilot "Gus" Grissom. Well, 'Gus' was a nickname of course, his real name had been Virgil Grissom...

It hit Jeff like a sack of cement and he stared at his second oldest son. Surely _that_ wasn't the problem?

"You got it yet?" Virgil asked softly. "Gus Grissom. You named me after someone who died trying to get into outer space. My brothers are all named after successful astronauts who lived full and happy lives. My namesake burnt to death on the launch-pad."

"Virgil..." Jeff had absolutely no idea what to say. The names of his children had merely been from heroes of his, it had never occurred to him at the time that this problem might arise. And he'd _never_ in a million years have put his stoic twenty six year old down as someone superstitious enough to be worked up about such a thing.

"You know, it's been gnawing at me since we built Three." The young man continued quietly. "When you and John took it up for that first launch and I suddenly realised that if this organisation is to work I'm going to need to know how to fly it too." He gave a shaky laugh, reaching out to pause the DVD again. "I half expected the flight simulator to destroy itself or something when I first used it, you know?"

"Virgil..."

"Didn't you even _think_ about it Dad?" Virgil turned to look at his father, a mask of anger not quite succeeding in covering the fear on his face. "Hasn't it occurred to you that I might be feeling ever so _slightly_ nervous about this?" He gestured at the frozen picture on the TV screen – a shot of the melted command module. "That's what happened to the last Virgil Grissom to go into space." He shuddered and looked away, back at Jeff again. "I know you guys have this whole 'Vigil's not afraid of anything, he's tough' thing going on, but believe me, I _do_ get afraid of things! And right now I am afraid for myself. I am afraid of _that_ happening to me." He shook his head. "I don't mind dying in the line of duty, I don't care if Two blows up with me inside her, I am willing to lay down my life to save someone else, but I don't want to burn to death on a training exercise."

"I didn't realise you were so superstitious about this." Jeff said quietly.

"Neither did I." The Thunderbird Two pilot gave a wan smile. "As I said; it's such a stupid thing for me to be thinking about, but I can't help it. I'm scared Dad. I don't want to be and have no reason to be, but I'm scared."

It was a huge admission coming from someone who was usually so controlled and logical. It was true when Virgil said that he was seen as the fearless one; come hell or high water he was the one that stayed calm and never showed a chink in his armour. Not today though.

Jeff frowned – concerned and more than a little upset that his boy had been keeping such a thing from him and from the whole family. Maybe if they'd known then things could have been arranged differently so that Virgil didn't have to fly the space-craft like the others. If only he'd _confided_ in them! Jeff and Lucille hadn't ever thought that the name would cause their second eldest any issues – beyond the odd Vigil/virgin gag of course.

"Well." He said finally. "I guess this poses a number of very important questions then." Virgil looked up at him again, the unhappiness clear on his face. "Firstly and most importantly; are you too old for a hug?"

"_What_?" The question took the younger man by surprise and for a moment he simply stared at Jeff before a more genuine smile broke out on his face. "Dad, there is no such thing as 'too old for a hug'!" He shuffled across the sofa a few inches and was immediately enveloped in his father's arms.

"Virgil. I don't care how old you get or how high your IQ is, sometimes you are a very silly boy!" Jeff said fondly, brushing smooth the mop of brown hair under his nose. "Why didn't you just _say_ something? I would never force you into flying Three if you're really this unhappy about it, I'm sure the others won't mind – you do most of the donkey work on the missions as it is."

He felt Virgil shake his head. "No. I need to know how to fly the damn thing. Anything could end up happening on a mission and I may be the only one able to."

"That would be a very unlikely set of circumstances, don't you think?"

"Could happen."

"It could." Jeff conceded. Reaching around his son he grabbed the TV remote and changed the display back to the menu – removing the image of the Apollo module from sight. "Now. Let's get that logical brain of yours working. Do you want me to cancel the launch this evening?"

There was a more emphatic shake against his chest. "No. I'm not letting this beat me."

"It won't be any trouble to reschedule, you know. If you want some more time I can-"

"Dad." Virgil sat up so that although Jeff's arm was still around his shoulders it was probably not defined as a hug any more. "I've been putting this off for months now, and you know it. If I don't get my lazy butt onto that machine tonight I doubt I ever will. Not to mention has it occurred to you just how much of a living hell my life would be if Gordon knew that Virgil 'Iron-nerve' Tracy was scared of a rocket?"

Jeff chuckled at that. "You know your brothers would appreciate you telling them that you're afraid. No matter how much they would tease you initially they'd much rather know that you're happy with your job instead of being pressurised into something you were afraid of."

"I know, I know." The young man ran a hand through his hair again in an attempt to get it back into some order. "But seriously, I'm not going to back down on this one. That's why I started watching all these films; I really was trying to make myself feel better."

"So you were watching _disaster_ movies?"

"In my defence, the logic was that they have happy endings so watching the bits where everything explodes would be counteracted by the fact that everything is alright in the end."

"Not your finest reasoning Virge." Jeff said with a smile. "But I can see how you got there." He watched his son trying to tidy his mop of brown hair then promptly leant over and ruffled it.

"_Dad_!" Virgil ducked away, laughing as he did so. "Leave off, I'm not a kid!"

"You boys will always be kids to me." The Tracy patriarch was glad to see his son cheering up and sat back with a broad grin as the young man next to him grumbled and flattened his hair down again. "You're sounding a bit happier now."

Virgil shrugged sheepishly. "I feel a little happier now. Maybe I just needed to talk to someone."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Would _you_ willingly admit that you were scared of something?"

Jeff shifted uncomfortably under his second eldest's piercing gaze – sometimes the boy was far too much like his mother. "Well, depending on the situation, probably not." He conceded.

"And was there any chance, even the _remotest_ possibility, that I'd ever tell the guys that I was afraid of flying one of the Thunderbirds?"

His father chuckled. "Since you put it like that I think I can understand why you kept this to yourself."

Virgil nodded. "Precisely." He stretched his arms out with a yawn and his hand caught the stack of empty DVD cases, scattering them across the floor. "Oh _da-_" He caught Jeff's eye and hurriedly coughed. "Darn. Oh darn." He heaved himself off the comfortable sofa with a groan and began to scoop the many cases back up into his arms. "Feel free to help."

"You're doing fine on your own." Jeff reached out and picked up the box for _Apollo 13_ and handed it to his son. Virgil took it with a glance at the cover before putting it to the bottom of the pile. "You know, if it's any help, Thunderbird Three is probably the safest, most reliable thing to ever fly into outer space. Plus it's not even like this is her first flight – she's been up there over a dozen times already, and Alan and I will be there with you." He smiled. "And Alan's namesake lived to a ripe old age, so he should cancel out any bad luck you seem to think that you've got."

Virgil returned the smile, although it was strained. "Yeah, I know."

Jeff pulled himself to his feet with a yawn. "Now. If you're sure we're good to launch tonight I'm going to need to get some shut-eye." He looked his son up and down – taking in Virgil's bedraggled appearance. "I suggest you do the same." He looked around at the RedBull cans. "If you've worked all that caffeine and sugar out of your system, that is."

The young man nodded. "You're talking to the guy who can sleep through an earthquake, Dad." He piled the DVD cases onto one of the shelves in an untidy stack before going over to the TV and switching the large machine off. "Thanks for cheering me up." He said with a small grin.

"Isn't that what Fathers are for?" Jeff pulled his boy into a tight hug, once again inwardly smirking at how even at the age of twenty six Virgil was still shorter than him. He ruffled the young man's hair again then released him with a laugh. "Now go get some sleep boy, I don't want to see you again until at least gone lunchtime."

"Grandma won't be happy with that."

"I'll explain things to her."

Virgil nodded, moving over to the doorway. "Thanks." He smiled. "And Dad? Please don't tell the others."

Jeff grinned and mimed zipping his lips together. "Not a word."

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_18:00. Thunderbird Three ready for launch._

"Life systems are go. Main thrusters are go. Green lights on the fuel lines."

In the busy cockpit of flashing lights and flickering displays Virgil calmly made his way through the launch checks, as smoothly as if he'd done it a million times before. Alan was too busy double checking each system requirement to notice if his brother seemed nervous or not but Jeff noticed the tell-tale strain around the young mans eyes.

"All systems go. Launch in T-minus 5, 4, 3,- check fuel ignition."

"Fuel ignition check."

"-2, 1, we have lift-off." The vibrations from the engines of the gargantuan shuttle made Virgil's nervous stutter inaudible, and his involuntary yelp went unheard as the rockets fired. There was no training that could have prepared a body for take-off – which was why he needed to do this first hand. The noise, the movement, the flashing lights; it was a chaotic mess of colour and sound as the craft blasted off from the ground and shot them skywards at beyond the speed of sound.

"Here come the G's!" Alan's warning shout was barely heard over the screaming of the rockets before they were hit by the phenomenon. Virgil was used to G-forces to some extent – Scott had taken him for a test flight in an airforce jet that had made him very well aware of just how powerful they could be. Even so it was nothing compared to the weight crushing into his chest and skull as they powered up through the atmosphere – deafened and almost blinded by the pressure and chaos.

And yet they were doing it. The noise, the lights, the weight that was threatening to press the eyeballs into the back of the head and yet they were doing it. Screaming up through the evening sky the giant craft forced her way out of the air-bound atmosphere and into the beyond.

It happened suddenly, so suddenly that for a moment Virgil honestly thought that the whole ship had stopped – that the engines had died on them. To his ears – desensitised by the terrific noise of the take-off – there was sudden and absolute silence. Disorientated by his own quiet terror he had no idea how much time had elapsed or why the cabin was suddenly silent. He slowly opened one eye, unaware that he'd even closed them, then both as he stared out of the cabin window.

The disturbing lack of noise became a background detail as the vast panorama of inky blackness spread out before the nosecone of Three.

"Pretty stunning, huh?"

He turned his head at the sound of the voice – still muted by the echoes of the earlier cacophony and his father smiled at him, a true 'proud Dad' grin.

"It's amazing..." The fear was gone, oddly enough. Melted away into the infinite star-studded vastness of space. "I'm in space." Even as he said it he became aware of the gradually increasing hum from the ship. The power needed to escape Earth's gravity was no longer a requirement and the engines had been backed down to a dull throb that gently propelled them through the vacuum.

"And it only took us nearly a year to get you up here." Alan was already out of his seat, twisting himself carefully in midair as he checked some of the parameters on the instruments behind them. "Not bad for a first flyer." He added with a smug grin. "At least you didn't scream all the way up on take-off. Gordo did."

"Alan..." Jeff's warning tone made it clear that the youngest Tracy should quit whilst he was ahead. Unfortunately, Alan was not a natural quitter.

"And you got the flight procedure right! Scott forgot to disengage the primary thrusters once we left the atmosphere on his first flight." He floated over to his shaken elder brother. "Congrats Virge! And-" He leant in with a hushed voice. "Don't feel too bad. I was terrified my first time and refused to even open my eyes during the entire take-off. Of course, the NASA shuttles aren't as high-tech as Three so there was more of a reason to be scared in them, but still." He clapped Virgil on the shoulder. "Well done." He looked down. "And you can release your death-grip on the armrest now, too."

Virgil followed his brother's gaze. His flight-gloves had left indents in the leather cover.

"Still, at least that's one of the worst bits over now. Take-offs usually suck." Alan was still chattering away, but something in the sentence caught Virgil's attention.

"Wait! _One_ of the worst bits?"

The youngest Tracy grinned and Jeff sighed.

"Re-entry."

Virgil groaned and thumped his head back against the head-rest. Unfortunately his name-sake had a bit of a history with those too.

The swimming pool was doomed.

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_If we die, we want people to accept it. We are in a risky business and we hope that if anything happens to us it will not delay the program. The conquest of space is worth the risk of life._

_- After the Gemini 3 mission, March 1965_

_**Virgil Ivan Grissom**_

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**I apologise for my lack of knowledge about Apollo 13 (the film), it's been many a year since I saw it and had to Wiki the details for this. Also, the tragic happenings on Apollo one are not the only disasters to have befallen the attempts to reach the stars and I by no means wish to portray that this one was any worse than the others. The phrase used in this story '**_**one of its biggest tragedies ever to occur'**_** is not my personal view, and is meant to be purely an atmosphere-setting line of a documentary. Also, all info on the Apollo one tragedy is taken from Wiki (again). **

**And another thing; the whole 'Virgil is fearless' thing was part of his bio on one of the Thunderbird's character pages out there and I liked the idea so used it here. We can pretty much assume that he's the one that can't be made to jump, will go into the danger-zones he's been expressly forbidden not to go into on account of danger and was always the one called upon to get the spider out of the bath.**

**The swimming pool bit at the end is a reference to one of Gus Grissom's solo flights in the Mercury projects where re-entry consisted of purposefully crash-landing the module into the sea. In his case something went wrong with the escape hatch and he nearly drowned. As a reference to this he wanted to name the next module he flew in 'Molly Brown' after the broadway musical 'The Unsinkable Molly Brown'. NASA took a dim view on this and told him to change the name so he called it the Titanic instead. Needless to say they allowed him to use Molly Brown, which just goes to show that NASA have no sense of humour what so ever and Virgil Tracy was named after an absolutely epic guy. **


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